Inside Our Minds
by Lyrical Heart
Summary: AU Drarry fic - Inside Stephen Mungo's Mental Hospital, Harry's delusional psychosis is getting worse now that his friends have recovered from their own problems. Will anyone be able to save him from himself and show him what the real world is like?
1. The Files

Dr. Albus Dumbledore looked down at the case files on his desk. One particularly thick file was stack on top of the rest, its tab green and red and the name written in his own lean, cursive spelt out: Potter, Harry J.

Harry had first been admitted to Stephen Mungo's Mental Hospital around the time of his eleventh birthday by his aunt and uncle. They had feared for their own son's safety when their nephew began showing signs of delusional psychosis.

He dreamed up the most fantastical things the head psychologist had ever heard of: an academy for the training of witches and wizards, mystical beasts, vicious battles. Albus had hoped their own medical magician, Dr. Severus Snape, would be able to come up with a combination of medication that would enable the boy to function in the outside world. The lad seemed to have it out for the man, as he weaved a tale around Severus of treachery and darkness that was beyond Albus.

Harry did manage to make a few normal acquaintances that he wove and even persuaded to indulge in his fantasy. Ronald B. Weasley, youngest son of many from a northern English family that developed a binge eating disorder at an early age and Hermione J. Granger, only child of a family dentist practice who had antisocial personality disorder. The three would spend days sitting in corners, talking in hushed whispers about Harry's delusional world until the day Hermione was released.

They had been seventeen by then and Ron had grown romantically attached. The attachment aided him in getting himself better and released, leaving Harry alone again within his world.

The only reprieve the poor boy got was when Draco came in. Draco L. Malfoy was a classic Multiple Personality Disorder case. He had two; Draco, who was a normal, sweet lad who could function in the world and aware of his condition; Malfoy, who was an arrogant, self-centered devil that had been absorbed into Harry's delusional world of witches in wizards. Due to Draco's coming and going from the hospital, the role he had in the other young man's world had become something akin to an archenemy.

Now that they were older, the keen ripe ages of nineteen, Albus hoped the boys' long acquaintance would push them to help one another where medicine failed.


	2. Shattered Appearance

Lucius felt utterly humiliated as he dragged his five-foot-eleven, nineteen-year old son down the hall of the hospital to the main desk. It was certainly not the first time, but the man could not help but pray that this time, just maybe, it would be the last. Draco was attempting to pull his arm from his father's grasp, fusing about his appearance. The receptionist simply pushed the buzzer, allowing them entrance to Dr. Dumbledore's office.

She had seen this spectacle far too many times.

Harry was staring out the window, watching a flock of birds dance across the sky as other patients blankly watched television or messily attempted to create art. 'Thestrals,' Thought the young man, 'Gliding gracefully through the sky… No one else can see…' A commotion behind him brought his attention around to see a familiar blonde being brought into the room.

Malfoy, demanding the nurses get their filthy hands off him, was more or less pushed into the sitting room with the other, less violent inmates. With all the dignity of a swan, the blonde straightened his powder blue patient uniform and surveyed the room with a look of disdain. When his grey eyes landed on Harry, he sneered.

"Potter."

"Malfoy." Harry answered just as coldly. He turned so he was fully facing the other teen, ready to defend himself if need be.

"Still dreaming your friends are going come flying in to rescue you? Heh, what a laugh. They're gone, Potter. Left, just like sniveling mudblood mother and worthless father."

Harry's fist collided into his face with a resounding thwack. The redness showed up on the pale cheek almost instantly as the blonde staggered back, slightly dazed by the strike he hadn't seen coming. After blinking a couple times, he looked back at Harry, his eyes oddly clear.

Draco glanced around the room before turning back to Harry, slightly bewildered. The last thing he remembered was sitting in his living room, talking with his father when…

"Malfoy." He murmured, wincing at the pain in his cheek. His hand went up to the offending place, feeling the tenderness. "Ooh, you got me pretty good there…"

The brunette pulled his arm back, watching Draco in confusion.

"Malfoy?"

"It's..ow, it's Draco, actually…" Three nurses came running over to them, belatedly informed of the ongoings. Two grabbed either of Harry's arms while the third forcefully inspected Draco's face.

"I'm fine. I deserved it, undoubtedly." The blonde said, trying to pull away. He glanced at the other teen, who was being held and questioned. Harry's green eyes were concentrated on him. He looked as if he had just found out Santa Claus really didn't exist and it made Draco uneasy, even as they were both carted off to see Dr. Dumbledore for their disruptive behaviors.


	3. Worlds Collide

Harry liked Dumbledore's office. It was filled with frames containing official looking degrees and shiny objects that seemed to have no real purpose but to puzzle whomever chose to look upon it. As he sat in a rather comfortable old leather chair next to Draco, his eyes wandered around the room at the surplus of objects and papers.

Draco sat still and with perfect posture, his eyes down cast to stare at the edge of the desk he sat across from. He was holding a covered ice pack to his stricken cheek, trying to bring down the swelling.

A mantle clock somewhere in the office ticked loudly through the silence as Dr. Dumbledore looked at both young men. He was seriously getting too old for things like this, being in his mid-eighties, but he was patiently. Five minutes ticked passed without a word, only the sounds of restless shifting from either lad. Finally, Albus spoke.

"Harry." The brunette looked up, his attention immediately focused on the elder. "Would you care to tell me why you hit Draco Malfoy?"

The shifting of feet and glancing of eyes began. Despite his age, Harry was still akin to a five-year old in many of his mannerisms.

"Harry."

"We were fighting, sir."

"About what?"

"He was saying the Hermione and Ron weren't coming back for me… And he called my mum a, you-know-what."

Albus was jotting all of this down, along with a few notes about Harry's behavior, on a small notepad while Draco watched the other lad. He seemed transfixed, horrified to hear what his other personality had said.

"No, Harry, I don't know. Tell me, what did he say."

Harry glanced at Draco, finding his wide-eyed stare disturbing before looking away again.

"A mudblood…"

"He didn't." The sentence more of a skeptical statement before Draco's hand touched Harry's. "Harry, I'm so sorry, I-"

The brunette jerked his hand away, staring at Draco. Albus looked up, watching the exchange, his hand hovering over the nurse call button all the while. Green eyes inched up and down and the blonde, trying to understand the sudden change of heart. Had he really hit him that hard?

"Harry…" Albus tried to determine where the lad's mind was going, but his eyes would not remove themselves from Draco's face. He gripped the armrests of his chair, licking his bottom lip and swallowing. His eyes began to blink fast.

Albus pushed the call button, standing from his seat and warning Draco to move.

"What's going on?" The blonde asked frantically, dropping his ice pack as he was pushed aside by nurses and a stretcher. Voices and organized chaos filled the office as medical professionals leaned over Harry, administering injections and tranquilizers and struggling to get him onto the stretcher.

Draco leaned against a wall, watching in all in slow motion. Harry's head lolled to the side, open eyes blankly staring at him as saliva began to trickle out the side of his mouth. The blonde's chest felt like it was caving in as he watched the helpless young man be wheeled away. His breathing was beginning to become sporadic, the familiar sensations of a panic attack setting in until a hand came down on his shoulder.

Albus smiled gently at Draco, holding out a glass of cool water for him. The younger man nodded his thanks, accepting it as he was guided back to his seat by the desk.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"What…what happened? To Harry, I mean?" Albus let out a heavy sigh, seating himself in his high-backed chair. He considered Draco over his glasses before removing the spectacles and rubbing his face.

"Harry suffers from a grandeous delusion that has taken up the better part of his life. Your alternate personality plays a rather key role in that delusion and I'm afraid our Harry's delusion has suffered a blow, having seen this side of you rather then merely Malfoy."

Upon Draco blank stare, the old man smiled half-heartedly. "His world is beginning to crumble, Draco, my lad. And I'm afraid you are the only link he has between his delusion and real life."


	4. Tearing Down the Walls

The pixies flying over Harry's head were mocking him. Little blue fuckers. The brunette was lying strapped to his bed, following them with his eyes as Draco opened the door.

Draco, despite his personality switch, remained in the hospital on the chance that Harry's trigger punch was a fluke. He stepped lightly into the room, closing the door behind him with a gentle click. Licking his lips nervously, Draco walked forward, a book clutched in his hands.

"Hey Harry." He said, trying to sound friendly and not as nervous as he was. He pulled the padded plastic chair that was off to the side up against the bed, sitting down. He smiled, his knees bouncy from his nerves as he watched Harry attempt to roll his head around to see him.

Harry blinked blurrily at the figure sitting by his bed. Blobs of white and pale flesh, a soft voice that he didn't quite recognize. Where were his glasses?

"Dumbledore?" He murmured, his mouth dry and throat scratchy. He sounded awful in his own ears.

"No, it's…it's Draco, actually. I came to say hi."

Draco… Why did that name sound familiar? Harry couldn't quite remember. He groaned, scrunching his face in his forgetfulness. But he was aware, despite his lack of his sight, that he was being watched and turned his focus back to the speaking blob of pale colors.

"Hi." Harry said hoarsely, making Draco give a breathy chuckle.

"Hi there. I thought we could talk… Kind of, get to know each other a bit.."

"Alright, Draco."

And so they talked. What seemed like minutes to them was hours of going back a forth with foods they liked, music tastes, Harry telling Draco a little about his world while Draco told Harry about his goal of wanting to be a graphic designer.

"My parents don't worry too much about the career thing. Say I've got enough talent for it that it doesn't matter if I get the college degree or not. What they're worried about is me finding someone."

Harry squirmed, against his restraints, his position becoming uncomfortable after the long time spent talking. He wanted to sit up, be more on equal grounds with Draco in their conversation.

"Why would they be worried about that? You seem a real likeable bloke that girls would be falling all over."

Another breathing chuckle escaped Draco, "Thanks, but girls aren't particularly my area, so to speak."

Harry stilled, staring up at the blob he had grown accustom to in the last few hours. "Oh…"

A short awkward silence fell before Harry was wrestling with the restraints again. "Well, I'm sure there are plenty of blokes that are looking for a guy like you, artist type an all."

Draco let out a breath, relieved that Harry had accepted his sexuality without real problem. His father had put up a real racket when he had first come out.

"Not with my being in and out of here all the time, gay men tend to be a bit…put off by that sort of thing."

"What do you mean?" Harry's head was cocked in curiosity, bright green eyes staring up in the general area of Draco. A faint blush spread across the blonde's face. Harry wasn't exactly bad-looking, in fact quite the opposite. Even that odd scar above his right eyebrow added to his beauty. Draco cleared is throat, bringing himself back to the question at hand.

"I'm…that is, I have a mental disorder called Multiple Personality Disorder… It can be minorly controlled with medications, but it's something I can't help. Not many men, not many people in general for that matter, are willing to deal with the kind of commitment it would take to be with both sides of me…" Draco trailed off, looking down at his knees.

Harry, having finally wriggled a hand loose from his restrains, reached out toward the blonde. Feeling the top of fluffy hair, he gently patted Draco's head.

"You're nice, Draco. Someone will come and sweep you off your feet, or whatever it is gay guys do. You're other side can't be that bad." The hand slid down the side of Draco's face as he looked up, cradling the bruise from the punch Harry had given Malfoy.

"I hope your right, Harry…"


	5. Two Minds, One Body

The next day, Draco and Harry sat across from each other as they ate their lunch. When the blonde had told Dr. Dumbledore that they had had a pleasant conversation, he had the nurses withhold Harry's glasses so the boy could not equate Draco with his Malfoy personality and risk another fight.

Instead, the brunette was squinting at his soup as he explained Quidditch to Draco. "Now, Quidditch is played on flying broomsticks. There are seven players on each team, the player consist of three Chasers, a Keeper, two Beaters and a Seeker." Harry moved varies pieces of chopped raw food around the table between them with some difficulty, trying to give a visual.

"The Chasers," he pointed to three bits of carrot, "handle the Quaffle and try to get it into one of the opposing team's three goals. Each goal is worth ten points. Meanwhile the Keeper," a chunk of turnip, "protects the goals."

"Like a football goalie?" Draco asked, unsure. He was beginning to see why Harry had been living in the hospital for so long. At the same time, he had to admire the imagination behind everything Harry put into his delusional world of magic.

"Yeah, exactly. Now the Beaters," he pushed two peas to the center, "use bats, kinda like cricket bats, to protect their teammates and deal damage to the other team from Bludgers. Bludgers," Harry interrupted Draco's question before it slipped from his lips, "is an enchanted iron ball that randomly flies at players, to make the game challenging."

"Oh god, that sounds violent." The blonde commented, but nonetheless, he attempted to picture such a seen. He leaned forward, looking over the array of food-players. "How does one win?"

"Ah, the game ends when the Seeker," Harry presented a crisp from the side of his bowl, "catches the golden Snitch, winning their team a hundred and fifty points and, usually, the game."

Draco looked up from the mishap of food items into the bright eyes of his friend. He was so enthusiastic, putting his entire being into his world and all the working around it. He had even come up with a sport that was beloved by the character he'd twisted into his world.

"And you say everyone loves this sport?"

"Oh yeah, I played it back at Hogwarts. I was on my house's team."

"Oh really? What position were you?"

"Seeker. It's one of my favorite things, Quidditch. Especially going against Slytherin."

"Slytherin? What's that?"

"One of the other Hogwarts houses," Harry explained, pushing his soup around. "I was almost placed there, but after meeting Malfoy, I knew I didn't want to be associated with people like that."

The half-formed smile on Draco's face slowly fell. His eyes rose, studying the brunette who continued to push around his cooling soup. Malfoy was actually an intricate part of Harry's delusion? Was that why he had been punched the other day?

"People like that?" He tried to keep his voice even, knowing Harry couldn't make out his expression without his corrective lenses. The brunette shrugged, cringing.

"Malfoy's a prick. Nothing too special but he knows where to push and he likes to kick you where it hurts, hard. Just to see you squirm."

Each word cut into Draco. Was this what his other side was like?

"I guess you could say we're rivals. Even now, after Hogwarts. He knows just what to say to set me off… Get me into trouble…"

The blonde reached across the table, tears in his eyes that Harry could not see. But he could hear them in his voice.

"Harry, I'm so sorry. I…I didn't know…"

Now, Harry may have been psychologically delusional, but he wasn't stupid. Draco's apology, the discussion they had had yesterday and the talk in Dumbledore's office all clicked together in his head. Harry gripped the hand Draco was using to convey his sympathy and used it as leverage to pull the blonde in as Harry leaned.

The sudden proximity startled Draco, but enables Harry to see his face clearly. It was the same pale, pointed face he had seen on Malfoy. Same sharp features, same white blonde hair. The only differences were the bruise that Harry had given him and the eyes. While Malfoy's eyes were always a snide, degrading shade of grey, Draco's were clear, a reflection of a sea after a storm.

It was the same body, for sure, but not the same person. Harry released his grip on Draco, slowly lowering himself back into his chair. His mind was attempting to piece this new information together with the constant fantasy he lived in.

"Harry?" Draco murmured, afraid he may have said the wrong thing and sent his new friend into psychologic shock. The other young man turned, blinking at the blurry figure of Draco. After a few moments, his mind created a storyline around the information.

"So, that explains why Malfoy wasn't always around… You both reside in the same body…" Draco gave a sigh, relieved that he was still speaking to him.

"Yeah… Something like that…"


End file.
